


when they open up your heart

by ellot



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Harvard Era, M/M, Post-Settlement, Reconciliation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellot/pseuds/ellot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Eduardo's relationship over the years in a world where people can get a timer which counts down the time until they meet their soulmate, but only if their soulmate has one too. Or: Eduardo has a timer, Mark doesn't, soulmates exist, and boys are silly when dealing with feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this prompt](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/390.html?thread=1470854#t1470854) at the [](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/profile)[**tsn_kinkmeme**](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/).
> 
> much thanks must go to [](http://vlieger.livejournal.com/profile)[**vlieger**](http://vlieger.livejournal.com/), as always.
> 
> there are a few changes in the fic from when i first posted it, namely in the second half. it's nothing too major however, just a few added details and reworked phrases that i hadn't been completely happy with before.
> 
> the title and opening and middle text are from 'in repair' by our lady peace which you can listen to [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kve68FFRjtA&ob=av2e). i recommend the song. it's one of my favorites.

_like a machine, they'll fix you from the start._

Eduardo doesn't understand what a timer is he when receives his. He's just scared as a doctor comes towards him with a mask and tells him to count backwards from ten.

_(Can you do that for me, son? he asks._

_And Eduardo is too sleepy to say, I’m not your son.)_

It's his seventh birthday and this is his father's present to him.

Timers are a sign of great wealth, after all. There's no better way to assure Eduardo's status in the world.

 

The timer just becomes another way that Eduardo has disappointed his father, however.

There is no countdown shown on the implant in his wrist. It remains blank. The company's consultants tell them that the blank countdown just means that Eduardo's match hasn't received their own timer yet. But by the time he's thirteen and the timer is still blank, Eduardo's father insists on taking him back to the doctors to have a new one put in.

_(I've invested my time and my money into this company and I expect to have a working timer for my son, he says. His hand is uncomfortably tight around Eduardo's wrist._

_But sir, we're trying to tell you that it is not broken and it's a very delicate procedure, do you really want⎯)_

His wrist is sore for over a week afterwards but it doesn't help any. He still has no countdown.

Eduardo thinks that it probably hasn't crossed his father's mind that his match will never get a timer. After all, everyone who is acceptable for a Saverin should have one.

That being said, it's also possible that Eduardo's father has actually thought of that potential likelihood, and Eduardo is a disappointment _because_ his match is unsuitable.

 

Just after midnight on his sixteenth birthday, Eduardo looks at his wrist. The sight is not unexpected although he had hoped. But much like his father's expression almost every time he looks at him now, it is still blank.

He grips the side of his bed, knuckles going white for a moment. Then he goes to his closet and picks up the box.

Eduardo unwraps the thick leather band he bought the week before as a birthday gift to himself and covers the timer.

His father stares at it during dinner that night but he never says a word. His mother smiles and tells him it's beautiful.

 

When Eduardo's acceptance letter from Harvard comes, his father nods his head. Not proudly but like it was just an expected occurrence that's finally came about to fruition.

Eduardo doesn't think he's ever been as happy as he is the day he boards his flight to Boston, however. But even with his father hundreds of miles away, he feels his presence throughout his life. He carefully selects his classes and plans his extracurriculars. He starts wearing the leather band all the time, even in the shower.

_(Father, I was wondering, he hesitantly starts to say a month before his flight. I was wondering if I could have the timer removed? He hates that he automatically makes it a question, a request for permission._

_Do you choose to ignore how it would look, Eduardo, is his father's reply.)_

He actually likes economics and business studies so that's a blessing, at least. And although he feels that he spends all his time in the library studying or at parties attempting to make friends or connections, he doesn't really mind. Even if Eduardo feels as if Harvard is just a place to set himself up for the future and not a place to really enjoy life as a typical university student.

Then he meets Dustin at a mixer and through him, Mark.

 

> Eduardo is working in the library. It's a Friday night so it's quiet, the few people inside are focused on their books or computers. There are a few parties going on that he's been invited to but he has an essay due in two weeks and he likes to properly plan these things.
> 
> He jumps when a bag is slammed onto the desk next to him. “So, Eduardo, right?" the guy sits down and talks far too loudly for being in the library.
> 
> “Yes," he says, thinking back to the party the week before, “And you're Dustin."
> 
> Dustin grins. “Oh good, you remember me. That makes this easier." He stands up, grabbing both his bag and the strap of Eduardo's as well. "Let's go."
> 
> “I’m sorry," Eduardo asks.
> 
> "Dude, come on. It's a Friday night and you are in the _library_. That's just depressingly sad. So you're coming to my dorm where we will drink beer and play video games." He ends with a flourish.
> 
> _”You_ are in the library."
> 
> “No," Dustin says. _”I_ was just walking by the library and saw you in here and decided to save you from yourself. So pack up your things and let's go."
> 
> There's a girl glaring at them from behind her computer as Dustin just stands there, foot tapping. Eduardo sighs and he gives in.
> 
> “You should know," Eduardo tells Dustin a few minutes later as they walk into his dorm. “I don't actually play video games."
> 
> Dustin arches an eyebrow but doesn't look particularly surprised. “Well, you do tonight."
> 
> The first time Eduardo sees Mark, he's sitting at his desk while typing on his laptop with giant headphones covering his ears. He doesn't look up from his computer until Dustin waves his hands in front of his face.
> 
> He comes to learn later that this is quintessentially Mark.
> 
> "Hey, Mark, this is Eduardo."
> 
> Eduardo holds his hand out for a handshake but Mark just looks at him. Then he says, voice flat, “Why are you wearing a suit?"
> 
> “Sorry," Eduardo says, intonation rising a little at the end with surprise. He pulls his hand back, unsure.
> 
> “It's ten o'clock at night on a Friday. We're college students. And you're wearing suit. Why?" Eduardo watches as Dustin smacks his forehead with his hand, mouthing something to himself. _(Oh dear god, probably should've warned⎯)_
> 
> Eduardo stares at Mark for a moment. He contemplates telling Mark that a button-down shirt and trousers are not a suit. He thinks about his father talking about the importance of always projecting a powerful, wealthy persona. He looks at Dustin shrugging in apology.
> 
> He laughs. “You know, I don't really know," he says as he reaches out again and grabs Mark's hand.
> 
> “It's nice to meet you, Mark."

 

Although he met Dustin first, Eduardo finds himself heading over to their dorm more and more to see Mark. There's something refreshing and oddly charming about his lack of social niceties, or just his absolute disregard for them. It makes him feel more honest. More real.

He is surprised though by how much he likes being around Mark, even when he's sitting removed from it all with his laptop and headphones on. He finds himself coming over to their room now instead of the library. It's easy, being around Mark and Dustin and Chris, even if he's just studying quietly by himself with them in the room.

Eduardo even enjoys forcing Mark away from his laptop on occasion and giving him food. He starts leaving him Mountain Dew when he knows that Mark's on a coding binge and will not be stopped within the next twelve hours.

He likes when Mark gives him a startled half-smile. He likes the thin blue veins he sees under the pale, empty stretch of his wrist when he grabs a can.

Eduardo tries to not think about the whys of it all too much.

_(His father gives a disgusted snort as they drive near Miami Beach._

_I wonder what this country is coming to. Sometimes I believe it would have been better if we had stayed in Brazil, he says as they pass by revelers and rainbow flags._

_Eduardo's mother sighs and shakes her head at her husband's words. She smiles at Eduardo through the rearview mirror.)_

He succeeds for the most part. But there are times when he wonders—about himself and about Mark.

He always greets Mark with a hand on his shoulder, if not a hug. He likes to place his hand on Mark's neck when he's trying to understand something that Mark explains, feel the steady beat of his pulse beneath his thumb. Sometimes he wraps Mark up in his arms, squeezes tight, and presses a kiss against his temple, just because he can.

Eduardo tried to stop once but he missed it all too much.

And Mark. Mark looks up from his computer when Eduardo says hello. He says thank you when Eduardo leaves him Mountain Dew and a sandwich. He takes his laptop from his desk and sits next to Eduardo when he's studying, feet wiggling in Eduardo's lap. He passes him candy as the night goes on.

He rests his head on his shoulder and doesn't speak when Eduardo hangs up after another phone conversation with his father.

It's something between them that just is.

Still they all finish freshman year and split apart for the summer. Eduardo goes back to Miami and then to Brazil with his family.

 

> It's the final Thursday before break and they're in Mark's dorm with Chris and Dustin as usual. Dustin's copy of the _Men in Black_ is playing on the TV but none of them are really playing attention to the film.
> 
> Chris and Dustin are debating the best ways to find alien life instead. The conversation somehow turns into an argument about the cancellation of _Roswell._
> 
> “I can't believe you actually watched that show," Chris says.
> 
> Dustin looks affronted. “It was a show about _aliens!"_
> 
> “And _that's_ the only reason you watched it?"
> 
> Eduardo stops listening after five minutes. He turns towards Mark, bumping their knees together to get his attention.
> 
> Mark gives him an absent-Minded smile and lifts his index finger from his keyboard for a second, gesturing for him to wait a moment. Eduardo settles back on the couch as Mark saves his work and sets his laptop on the coffee table away from their drinks.
> 
> “You're always wearing this," Mark says as he leans against Eduardo. He reaches towards the leather band but curls his fingers into his palm until Eduardo nods. He touches the worn grooves.
> 
> “I bought it for my sixteenth birthday."
> 
> Mark doesn't say anything but Eduardo finds himself unbuckling the strap and turning his wrist so Mark can see the timer on his wrist. “My father bought it for my⎯ well, when he decided to invest in the company. It's," he pauses, unsure. “It's just a timer, you know. It's not important."
> 
> They both look at Eduardo's wrist, Mark blinking rapidly. He quickly places the tips of his fingers across where the countdown should be, covering the empty spaces. Mark buckles the band again and sits back.
> 
> “I've never met anyone who covers their timer up if they have one." Mark's voice is contemplative, almost vague, but there's no demand for knowledge, for which Eduardo is grateful. “Is it bad then?"
> 
> Eduardo smiles at him, looks down at his lips, chapped and perfect. “I don't think so."
> 
> “Oh," is all Mark says.
> 
> They talk about more inane things for a little while but Mark keeps looking down at his hands. Eduardo finally smiles and asks if Mark wants to keep coding. Mark shrugs. Eduardo laughs happily before handing him his laptop. Mark puts on his headphones again and focuses on his computer.
> 
> Eduardo picks up his macroeconomics book and crosses their ankles together.

 

By the time Eduardo returns for the new term, Mark is dating Erica.

He's smiling, his hand on Mark's shoulder and a hello just off his lips when Mark first tells him. Eduardo opens his mouth and closes it again. He doesn't know what he wants to say, has no idea what he should say.

In the end, he settles for, “I’m happy for you."

They don't really talk about it. Then the term starts and he focuses on his classes and maybe even being punched by one of the final clubs.

Eduardo doesn't notice many changes once Mark and Erica begin dating. There are just a couple nights a week where he goes over to Mark's dorm and Dustin or Chris let him in and Mark's not there.

He doesn't really understand, however, why he feels a pain in his chest when Mark returns to the room with red lips darker than usual.

Then he reads Mark's blog a few months later. It's viciously callous, Mark's typical acerbity magnified. But Eduardo knows that Mark becomes cruel and ruthless when he's trying to withdraw into himself in order to avoid being hurt. So he jogs and across campus and into Kirkland.

He says, “I’m here for you," and puts his hand on Mark's shoulder. He can feel the tense muscles underneath his clothes.

Mark clasps his hand on Eduardo's wrist, over the leather band and the hidden timer. He says, “No, I need you for the algorithm."

But Eduardo barely registers his words. He finds himself struggling to keep in a soft noise of surprise and realization.

 

“So, how're you doing, _really?"_ Eduardo asks later, long after the servers are back up and running and a discussion outside during a Caribbean theme-party.

“I don't understand what you mean."

“Mark," Eduardo says, plaintively as he sits down next to him on the couch. He leans his head on Mark's shoulder and picks up his hand. He intertwines their fingers before Mark can think to pull away. “Mark, you built a website and spent a night angrily blogging because you broke up with your, um, Erica."

“I don't see how that's really relevant, Wardo. We broke up. She's no longer important. And I’m working on something new."

“So you're really okay?" Eduardo asks as he pulls Mark in closer with an arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“I’m fine, Wardo," Mark says as he turns sideways and tucks his head under Eduardo's chin and swings his feet over Eduardo's lap. He grabs his laptop next to him and starts to work.

Eduardo sighs and nods, “If you say so." He grabs the remote and turns on the television. He strokes his hand up and down Mark's back, feeling the sharp knobs of his spine through cotton.

Studying can wait a few hours.

 

Things change between them, Eduardo can tell, though it's nothing too outwardly obvious.

He still spends most of his free time in Mark, Dustin, and Chris's rooms. He still sits leans over and puts his hand gently on Mark's neck when he's talking and typing on his computer. Occasionally Mark sits next to him on the couch or on the floor leaning against his shins, while Dustin challenges Chris to a rematch of some video game that Eduardo inevitably begs off.

Mark codes.

It's life as normal.

No matter that Eduardo sometimes has to bite his lip to keep a soft moan in throat when Mark sits close by and he can feel his breath against the suddenly sensitive skin of his neck. And that there are times when Eduardo has to willfully keep his fingers from gripping Mark's hip and pulling him in as he leans sideways against him with Eduardo's arm around his waist.

He has to keep reminding himself to stop staring at that damn green dart in Mark's mouth.

But there are also moments when Eduardo is sure that Mark is looking too, watching him. Eduardo tries to not think of Mark's bottom lip, chapped and gnawed red.

 

They're in Mark's dorm when he shows Eduardo his name on the masthead.

Eduardo stares and tries to focus on their names next to each other on the website of _their_ company. You have no idea what how much this means to me, he thinks. He doesn't say it, doesn't know how to force the words up and out from his diaphragm.

He hopes his hand on Mark's shoulder, his lips against the russet curls near his temple, say enough for now.

“You have no idea what that's going to mean to my father," he finally manages to tell him. It's something safe and it's only when he hears the words aloud that he thinks that it's possible. For the first time, his father will be proud of him.

_(You are sixteen years old now, Eduardo, his father says, interrupting his question. You should not have to ask me for money._

_You have to make your own way in the world to really be a man.)_

“Sure I do," Mark says with a small quirk to his lips.

Mark sends the link to the Phoenix mailing list and the site goes live. Mark's dream, their dream.

Eduardo can't help but smile as he watches Mark pray at his desk. He gets up from Mark's bed and pulls Mark up from behind, arms under his shoulders. He wraps his arms around Mark's waist in a tight hug and presses his face into his hair and smells the scent of whatever shampoo and conditioner Mark had bought on deal.

He places a hand onto the warm space just below Mark's belly button. Mark rests his arms on top of Eduardo's for a second and they both shuffle forward a few steps. Eduardo pulls away after one last squeeze, lifting Mark a few inches of the ground.

“Come on now," Eduardo says. “Put on a jacket. We're going out and I’m buying."

Mark holds onto his arm for an extra heartbeat before letting go and grabbing a fleece, quite possibly Chris or Dustin’s or more likely, one of Eduardo’s he’d left behind at some point.

 

The two of them rarely spend time alone together outside of their dorms and just walking around campus so they end up heading to a bar they've been to before with Chris, Dustin, and Billy.

They settle in a booth so small that their legs criss-cross underneath their table, warm against each other. It feels like a date almost, although Eduardo has never been a date so casual before. Mark's in his socks and flip-flops and they're drinking pints of beer and eating a plate of nachos courtesy of Eduardo's credit card and fake ID.

Eduardo has to force himself not to lean over the table and kiss the corner of Mark's mouth where a bit of cheese and salsa is stuck. Still, he can't resist pressing his thumb there, pulling at Mark's bottom lip before wiping away the mess.

Mark smiles, a soft curve with no teeth, his chin tucked down and a tinge of red in his cheeks. Eduardo hopes it's from his touch and not from the alcohol.

He feels Mark press his ankle against his, a pleasant pressure.

 

They end up staying out for dinner, eating hamburgers and milkshakes at a small diner near campus. Eduardo watches Mark's small and muted but meaningful gestures when he speaks. He thinks about the fact that he's one of the few who know just how expressive Mark can be. He likes the thought.

Something is building between them, Eduardo knows. He can see it every time he blinks and opens his eyes to Mark, still focused solely on him.

The night passes quickly and enjoyably, the two of them at ease with each other as they talk and joke and discuss the potential of Facebook.

Still Eduardo can’t help but feel that they’re both just waiting for something to happen. The two of them are almost back at Kirkland when it finally does happen. They're next to the stairs when Mark trips, the front of his flip-flop caught in a sidewalk crack. Mark falls against him, pushing Eduardo into the cold stone.

Eduardo steadies him, hands tight on his hips. His fingers tense at the feeling of Mark's bare skin under his t-shirt and hoodie.

Mark lets out a sharp, sudden burst of laughter. However, when he speaks, his voice is soft, “Wardo." his eyes look impossibly wide and bright.

Eduardo can feel the warmth of the two beers he had earlier still running through his veins. He doesn't think that's why his cheeks feel so hot however.

He watches as Mark licks his lips.

In fact, Eduardo thinks, he's positive that the beers are not why he feels so flushed.

He bends at his waist in order to press his forehead against Mark's, his hands still tight around Mark’s hips. They're so close now that Eduardo can feel Mark's breath against his mouth. All he can see is the vague impression of Mark's lashes silhouetted against the lights reflected in his eyes.

“Wardo," Mark whispers. Eduardo doesn't think he's ever heard Mark sound so quiet and unsure before.

It sounds wrong.

So Eduardo smiles at him, a tiny quirk that he can't stop until it stretches across his face. “Mark," he replies with a quick, barely-there kiss to that teasing corner of his mouth.

He moves back, straightening, although he doesn't relax his hold on Mark's hips.

Mark puts his hands on Eduardo's waist and slowly slides them upwards. He grins when he hears Eduardo's choked moan, his nipple caught under Mark's palm.

He moves his hands to Eduardo's shoulders and pushes him down slightly as he goes up on tip-toe. He pauses a moment, eyes on Eduardo's, before pressing their lips together firmly.

Eduardo can't help but smile into the kiss.

Mark moves back after a fast, provocative lick across Eduardo's lips. He grabs Eduardo's forearm, just above his leather band and leads him into the building.

 

 _Dragged Chris out. We are going to PAR-TAY! See you later, losers! —DM (That's Dustin the MF-ing Magnificent. Yeah, you know that's right.)_ is written on the white board outside Mark's room.

“Thank god," Eduardo hears him say and he fumbles his keys and struggles to open the door.

It feels almost too easy, Eduardo thinks as Mark wraps his arms around his neck and brings him down for a kiss. He wonders if there should be some hesitance, some awkwardness between them, due to the significant weight of the moment but there isn’t. It just feels like another extension of them.

Eduardo slides his hands up from Mark's ribs, pulling his t-shirt and hoodie along the way and up over his head. Mark smiles as he starts to unbutton Eduardo's shirt from the bottom-up.

He shivers at the faint touch of Mark's fingers along his torso and leans over to press his face into the gentle curve where Mark's neck meets his shoulder. He bites down softly and listens to Mark groan.

It's not too easy or awkward, Eduardo thinks. It's just perfect. They move as if they were made to be fitted together, like gears in a clock. Like soulmates.

Eduardo shrugs his shirt off at Mark's urging. He tosses it over a desk chair and Mark grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. “Come on," he says, tugging them towards his bed. Eduardo smiles and brings their clasped hands to his lips to kiss.

Mark watches him for a moment before his gaze moves downward. He eyes the leather around Eduardo's wrist, face solemn.

Eduardo moves to take it off but Mark stops him, hand tight on his arm. "Leave it."

He opens his mouth to speak but Mark shakes his head. He tangles his hands in Eduardo's hair and gives a sharp tug that has Eduardo releasing a surprised moan, even as Mark pulls him down with one hand to kiss again, his other hand on Eduardo's belt buckle.

 

The timer on his wrist is blank, Eduardo knows. But as Mark presses him down onto his mattress, he thinks that it doesn't matter. The timer really doesn't matter.

Mark doesn't have a timer. And they can just be.

“Stop thinking so much, Wardo." Eduardo huffs a surprised laugh as Mark presses his forehead into the sensitive skin just below his belly button.

Eduardo clutches at Mark's curls, fingers clenching, as Mark blows warm breath through the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. Eduardo has to resist a sudden urge to giggle when Mark starts to tug the elastic band away from his skin.

“What?" Mark asks. Eduardo doesn't know how to explain the thoughts running through his mind. How happy he is in this moment, how he can't believe this is actually happening, how beautiful Mark looks with his eyes blown wide. How it tickles a bit when Mark strokes his stomach. He doesn't speak, can’t speak, but offers a smile.

Eduardo lifts his hips at Mark's urging and bites his lip in an attempt to suppress a moan that's building in his chest. He feels the fabric and Mark's fingers slide down his thighs.

When his briefs are finally tossed aside, Mark grabs the base of his cock in a loose grip, lightly stroking up once. Eduardo lets out a strangled sob when he feels Mark's tongue tentatively lick the precome at the tip and his hips jerk.

He doesn't have to see to know that Mark is smirking against the crease of his hip as he holds him down.

Eduardo grabs Mark's shoulder with his left hand, frustrated when he gets his shirt instead of skin. He struggles to sit up. “Come on, Mark," he says as he tries to pull up his shirt. But Mark just presses him back down, hands firm against his chest.

“Oh god," he groans, biting his fist to muffle his sounds when Mark drags his rough nails down across his nipples. He reaches down and grabs Mark's hair again, both hands twisting in the soft curls as Mark clutches his hips. He _yanks_ when Mark swallows around the head of his cock.

“Shit, sorry, sorry," he says as Mark pulls off. He lets go of his hair to grip Mark's flannel sheets instead.

“No." Mark grabs his hands and places them back on his head before he digs his fingers into Eduardo's hips and leans down again.

It's over far too soon after that. Eduardo can feel pressure building up from his toes as Mark literally hums around his cock. He tugs on Mark's hair in warning, “I’m about to, Mark, going to—" but Mark just runs a hand up Eduardo's chest and tugs on his nipple until Eduardo jerks against his restraining forearm. Mark swallows around him as he comes.

Mark coughs as he sits up and Eduardo stares at his lips, red and swollen, slick with saliva and come.

“God," he breathes out as he lifts a hand and tugs at Mark’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Mark turns his cheek and nuzzles into his palm. “God," Eduardo repeats.

He leans forward and pushes Mark backwards onto the mattress. “Your mouth, Mark. Your mouth," he says as he presses kisses onto his lips and traces the bruised flesh with his tongue.

Eduardo has never been so thankful for Mark's casual clothing as when he slips his hand easily inside Mark's sweatpants and starts to jerk him off roughly.

Mark groans, arching his back and neck, as Eduardo leans over him, propped up on one straining arm. He wraps a leg around his waist and gasps as Eduardo sucks on the side of his neck.

He comes with a choked off cry when Eduardo bites down.

Eduardo collapses, careful not to fall on Mark, and lies down beside him. Mark pulls off his shirt and wipes his come off his chest and hands it over. Eduardo experimentally licks his index finger and grins around it as he watches Mark's eyes widen before he wipes his hand clean.

He tugs his underwear back on and feels the soreness in his hips. Eduardo presses down on his skin and finds himself hoping that he'll find bruises in the shape of Mark's fingers in the morning.

Mark grabs his hand and pulls him down onto the bed again. They lie down facing each other. Eduardo watches as Mark traces patterns into his leather band, an indecipherable look in his eyes. He sighs happily when Eduardo presses a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, and the corner of his mouth.

He rolls over, his back facing Eduardo and scoots back until Eduardo wraps his arm around him and presses against him.

They can just be, Eduardo thinks to himself as Mark holds onto his arm, hand wrapped around leather. And he knows, deep in his bones.

They'll be great.

 

Eduardo groans when he hears the _crunch crunch_ above him. He pushes back against Mark who's now behind him. He smiles at the feel of his steady breathing against his neck and the warm arm wrapped around his waist. He avoids looking up.

The _crunch crunch_ continues for a moment longer until he hears Dustin say, “I’m just going to stay standing here, Wardo. So you might as well just wake up."

He mutters unhappily and rolls onto his back. He rubs his face into Mark's duvet before blinking slowly awake. Mark stays asleep. He's always been able to sleep like the dead once you somehow manage to force him into bed.

Dustin is standing over them, happily chomping away at a bowl of cereal. Lucky Charms, most likely. Dustin has always wanted to be a leprechaun—was one for Halloween the year before.

“So," he says. “You two finally got your shit together then?"

Eduardo doesn't answer him, just flips onto his stomach. He slams his face into his pillow for a moment until he has to turn to the side in order to breathe.

Mark snuffles slightly in his sleep. Eduardo looks at the sweep of his nose and twitching curve of his lashes.

“It's rude to ignore people, Wardo. Also, resistance is useless." Dustin leans over to stare directly into Eduardo's eyes.

“Yes, Dustin." Dustin arches an eyebrow. Eduardo sighs and says, “Yes, Dustin. Mark and I finally got out shit together."

"About damn time, really. I was getting tired of finding excuses to leave the two of you alone every weekend. I like to par-tay as much as the next person but even I’m getting tired. I miss my DVDs and video games. Seriously, the _library_ was going to be my next excuse, man. And also, Chris was getting all bitchy. Bitchy Chris is not fun, trust me."

“What the fuck, Dustin," Eduardo can hear Chris call from the couch.

“It's okay, pooh bear. I know you're a homebody at heart. I accept it."

Mark yawns and slowly opens his eyes, "Dustin, shut up and go away."

“Please," Eduardo adds.

“Fine, fine. Congrats, bee-tee-double-you. Chris says congrats too," he walks towards the living area. “Oh, also, please no sexing when we're all in the apartment. I don't need to know your sex noises. It’d make everything really awkward."

Eduardo groans even as he snorts out a laugh. He moves to get up after a quick kiss to Mark's cheek but Mark holds him down with the arm he has wrapped around Eduardo's waist. “Five more minutes," he says. “I want five more minutes with you."

Eduardo doesn't say that he has all the time in the world with him, that they're forever people.

It seems too trite, too soon.

 

A few weeks pass by. Eduardo ends up spending most nights at Kirkland because Mark's desktop is there and Mark likes checking how thefacebook is doing at his desk.

They still sit on the couch together while Dustin and Chris play video games. Although now, Eduardo sits with his back against the armrest and Mark stretched out between his thighs, his head pillowed on Eduardo's stomach.

Now, Eduardo ducks his head to kiss Mark on the cheek when he sets a sandwich down beside his computer. Mark grabs Eduardo's hand and presses a kiss to his palm when Eduardo pulls him into bed at night. They fall asleep pressed tightly against each other, arms and legs tangled.

There's this smile that Mark gives every morning when they've first woken up. It's _the_ most perfect thing to Eduardo. He always feels words catch in his throat when he sees it so he just leans over to kiss Mark good morning instead.

He hasn't said the words yet. But he knows they're true.

There's something happening though, Eduardo knows. But he's not sure what.

Mark's constantly working on thefacebook. He improves the layout and streamlines the functions. He spends hours in front of his computer or the plans that are written and spread around the living area.

Eduardo expects these things though. He knows that this is a part of Mark and has accepted it, loves it even.

Sometimes, though, when Eduardo kisses Mark, it feels as if Mark is starting to hesitate. It's almost as if he's using thefacbook as a reason to pull away.

“Not now, Wardo," he says. His eyes look pained.

He thinks it may be because of the stress of setting up the website. It could also be the lack of doors in the dorm and Dustin's teasing little jibes. But then, Mark's never really taken Dustin's words to heart before. He doesn't understand.

But Mark still smiles that perfect smile in the morning.

 

By the time Sean Parker enters their lives, Eduardo can't help but feel as if there's a distance growing between the two of them. It's not just the stress of thefacebook and Mark being busy with coding all the time. It's something he'd thought would never really happen.

After a few weeks of the Sean Parker Variety Hour, he _knows_ it's there and it keeps getting bigger. He feels as if he were to make a line graph showing the amount of time that he and Mark spend together, it would look like the Stock Market Crash of 1929, a line plummeting to almost nothing.

Mark spends more time outside of Kirkland, without Eduardo. They don't sit wrapped around each other on the couch as much anymore. And although they still fall asleep together in Mark's bed. The perfect smile in the morning is gone.

He has trouble sometimes, believing that it's happening. It should have been impossible.

Mark starts spending more and more time with Sean. And Mark just doesn't understand why Eduardo is upset. He doesn't understand that Eduardo misses him. Eduardo can't help but feel that Mark isn't even _trying_ to understand.

These things take effort on both sides, Eduardo knows. And Mark isn't even trying.

> He goes by Kirkland on Thursday night but Mark isn't there.
> 
> Eduardo doesn't know what hurts more, the fact that Mark isn't there or that Eduardo finds himself not really surprised at his absence.
> 
> Thursday nights had always been their night. Back in freshman year, even when Mark had been dating Erica, and all the way up until now.
> 
> Dustin pauses his video game when he sees Eduardo. "Hey Wardo," he says, a hint of nerves in his voice when he looks up and sees the time. “I’m sure Mark'll be back soon."
> 
> Eduardo sets down his bag. “Yeah, I’m sure." He tries to feel sincerity in his own voice.
> 
> “Wanna play?" Dustin says, offering him a game controller.
> 
> He should probably return to his room or at pull out a book and study for a quiz early next week. But it's Thursday.
> 
> “Yeah," Eduardo says. He tilts the corners of his lips with a stiff smile at Dustin's pleading expression. “But you should know, I still suck at video games."
> 
> They play several games, Dustin winning every one of them.
> 
> Eduardo goes back to his room without seeing Mark.

 

It doesn't get better.

Eduardo can't help but think of _Things Fall Apart,_ a book he read in high school.

He'll admit that he doesn't remember much about the story itself. He thinks he may have been too young, too immature possibly, to really appreciate it at the time. But the excerpt of the Yeats poem at the beginning of the book has always stayed with him.

 _Turning and turning in the widening gyre_  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

He still has hope though. Mark is it for him, Eduardo knows. And even if they're struggling now, they'll manage to work past it eventually.

And then it's summer. Mark moves to the house in Palo Alto. And Eduardo wants to go with him, stay by his side.

He flies down to New York City instead.

After a few weeks, he's met with so many advertisers. He's dealt with their condescending stares as he sits with perfect posture. Yes, he's only nineteen, almost twenty, he tells them. But it's a brilliant business and they'd be smart to consider it.

He has a few days without meetings and decides to fly to California. He calls Mark to him but no one picks up. He texts Mark several times.

No one is waiting for him at the airport.

 

> Mark says, “I need you here."
> 
> Eduardo hears the words but he can't understand the almost desolation in his tone. Why he sounds so upset about the fact. Eduardo knows, he's always going to be there for Mark. Even if it means that he has to go to New York to help their company.
> 
> Mark doesn't listen to him and they're shouting in the hallway.
> 
> Eduardo can't focus properly. He thinks instead of waiting in an airport for an hour, cell phone in hand. He remembers getting soaking wet and Sean opening the door. Mark greeting him with a slap on the arm and not a kiss even when they step into the hallway.
> 
> All he wants is to get warm and dry and curl up next to Mark in bed.
> 
> However, Mark is yelling and he's yelling back. And he's thinking of Sean living in this house that he's helping pay for, underage girls and drugs, and the disrepute that Mark and Facebook could suffer from it all.
> 
> It's only when their voices lull for a moment that he registers something Mark had said. “What did you mean, get left behind?" he asks but Mark is already shaking his head and walking away.
> 
> Eduardo sighs and picks up his bags. He searches for Mark's room and changes quickly into dry clothes.
> 
> When he gets back to the main room, Mark and Dustin are both wired in and Sean is lounging on the couch, a girl on either side.
> 
> Eduardo places his hand on Mark's neck and leans down to kiss his cheek but Mark flinches back abruptly. Eduardo freezes for a moment before quickly pulling away, hands stuffed into his pockets.
> 
> Mark keeps typing and doesn't look at him.
> 
> “I’m going back to New York," he finds himself saying, not realizing how true his words are until they're said out loud. He goes to Mark's room again. He picks up his bags and stuffs his damp clothes into an unoccupied zipped section, uncaring about the fabric and proper care.
> 
> He walks back into the main room and says a soft goodbye. Sean sneers, Dustin offers a sad, beseeching smile. Mark doesn't turn around.
> 
> Eduardo steals an umbrella and walks to the cab waiting at the curb. His hands are shaking but he blames that on the cold.
> 
> He goes to the bank in New York the very next day and freezes the account.
> 
> maybe Mark will look at him again.

 

Mark isn't even the one who tells him. It makes Eduardo want to laugh, harsh and rough in his throat.

He remembers how happy he was, Mark talking to him about the algorithm on the Kirkland window. Mark had _smiled._

It was all a lie. And Mark doesn't even look at his face and tell him.

He marches through the offices and sees him sitting there. He's typing away as if the world isn't crumbling to pieces beneath him, as if everything he'd envisioned their future to be hadn't just been torn to shreds and then sent up in flames.

Eduardo breaks the laptop, smashes it against the desk.

He wants Mark's attention again. He wants Mark's smiles and his lips warm on his palm. He wants kisses and spooning on the bed.

He misses the dorm room at Kirkland and how fucking _easy_ things were back then.

Eduardo wants to shatter the thing Mark holds most dear.

Facebook is intangible, however.

So the laptop will have to do.

He looks Mark in the eye and says the words he knows he can't take back, he won’t take back, “You better lawyer up, asshole."

Eduardo makes it all the way out of the offices and into the back of a cab before he has to press his face into his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his shins. He curls up in the seat as if he can protect himself pain.

He tries to cry quietly but he has to struggle to breathe—deep, gasping breaths ripping through his chest. Sobs are choking his throat.

“Are you okay, son?" the cab driver is gruff but there's a sincere kindness in his voice. Eduardo feels as if hasn't heard anything like it in awhile.

He shakes his head, face still against his knees. “No," he finally manages to say.

“No, I’ve just lost my soulmate."

He eventually tells the driver to take him to a hotel. There's a Sheraton nearby.

Eduardo checks into a small room on the ground floor. He sits on the bed.

He doesn't know what to do.

Mark is the one he always talks to about his problems, Chris and Dustin sometimes too. But Chris isn't here and Dustin is in the offices with Mark. He didn't sign the contract. Eduardo wonders if he knew.

Chris and Dustin, they're both still part of Facebook.

He wishes Mark were here.

Eduardo calls his father instead.

There's something akin to pride in his voice when he answers the phone and realizes it's Eduardo.

Eduardo swallows, Adam's apple bobbing roughly, before he speaks. “Father," is all he manages to get out before his father demands to know what he's done wrong. He struggles to keep his voice steady as he explains what's happened with the company.

“You will stop your silly crying," his father says to him. His words are clipped short and his voice hard. “Crying won't stop this idiocy." It's impossible so Eduardo just holds the receiver away from his face. “Now, you will find a lawyer and fix your own mess."

He hangs up.

Eduardo wonders if Mark knew that this would happen, how all of this would affect Eduardo's life. He had to have known.

Maybe it just hadn't mattered to him, maybe he didn’t believe in soulmates.

He takes off the leather band off his wrist with a shaking hand. He almost throws it away, wants to; but he's always been a sentimental person as his father says. He tucks it into his bag. Maybe he'll bring it out on certain days and remember how things used to be.

Being forced to see the timer every time his wrist is exposed will be his self-imposed punishment.

This is what happens when you're foolish enough to trust someone with your heart, he thinks.

Eduardo looks down to find himself scratching his wrist, wishing he could rip the thing out himself.

The blank timer just stares up at him, mocking.

 

It takes him three weeks to find the right lawyer. He keeps finding reasons to not hire them.

The cadence of one man's speaking was too fast and stilted. There was a bottle of Mountain Dew and a bag of Red Vines in the office of another. The last lawyer had sounded too happy as he'd told him, “We'll get him for this, Mr. Saverin. He'll pay."

In the end, he decides on Gretchen.

“So, what can we do for you, Mr. Saverin," Gretchen asks him, straightforward.

“I want to sue my sou—" he can't say the word. “My best friend," he finally manages to choke out.

He thinks he should feel better. People always talk about the catharsis that comes from saying things out loud.

It doesn't feel better.

She pats his arm lightly and says, “I’ll see what we can do for you."

 

Eduardo tries to move on, tells himself that he has. He goes back to Harvard and finishes his degree. He graduates only magna cum laude, but his father already isn't speaking to him. Eduardo allows himself to feel to proud. He accepts internships in New York during the summer and avoids Miami.

He calls his mother every Tuesday night though, sometimes other days too, and he emails and video conferences with Gretchen and her team often. Sometimes they're the only people he talks to outside of work for weeks at a time. Except for Chris.

> It's only the third week of junior year and already Eduardo is spending most afternoons and early evenings in the library.
> 
> There's no suite in Kirkland for him to head to anymore and Eduardo tries to avoid his own dorm as much as possible.
> 
> He's settled in for the next few hours at his favorite desk near the windows when someone comes up beside him and coughs lightly.
> 
> Eduardo's fingers clench tightly around the pages of his economics book. He doesn't look up, bows his head instead. The waxy paper feels soothing and cool against his forehead.
> 
> "Hey Wardo," he finally looks up and Chris is standing there, swaying nervously. “I was wondering if I could study here with you."
> 
> Eduardo pauses for a moment then moves his bag aside.
> 
> Chris smiles and says, “Thanks."
> 
> They start meeting every Wednesday. At first, they mostly talk about classes and other safe topics. But as time passes, they begin to meet more often and their conversation opens up as Chris tentatively starts discussing different subjects. It's almost like their first two years here, in a way.
> 
> It's takes time getting used to it, just the two of them here at Harvard and hanging out together after class. It's quiet without the sound of Mark's constant typing and pointed comments, without Dustin—being Dustin.

 

He's doing okay, Eduardo thinks. He has a good job. He has people he considers friends at work. He talks to Chris whenever he has the chance and sometimes he even emails Dustin. And even if he feels a sharp pain in his chest when he sees his blank timer, he feels he's moved on.

Then the depositions start.

 

Eduardo thought that he could handle it. The retelling of one of the most important times of his life, the most important. He knew it would be painful but he thought he could manage.

He’s been preparing himself for it.

Then the lawyers all start talking about the day that Facebook went live and the conversation about the masthead.

He's tried not to remember that day, that night.

Gretchen puts a steadying hand on the back of his chair when he starts to talk. She knows the story, had to as his lawyer. He tells them about Mark listing him as CFO and co-founder. He stumbles over the mention about his father. No one but Gretchen seems to notice, discretely patting and squeezing his shoulder once.

Mark keeps doodling on his notepad, fingers tightly clenched around his pen. Eduardo looks at his white knuckles.

Suddenly, Mark is staring back at him. His expression is completely impassive and unreadable.

Eduardo imagines that he's bored by all the proceedings.

They don't ask about that night but Eduardo can't stop thinking about it now. He thinks about Mark now compared to that night when he'd laughed as he pressed Eduardo down onto his sheets.

When he gets back to his hotel, that same ground floor room at the Sheraton, he thinks about Mark's blank stare⎯like the blank face of his timer. He thinks about that night when he foolishly tried to claw it out, and he thinks of his father's voice emotionless and cold in his ear.

He calls a doctor and makes an appointment.

 

It's the final day of depositions. Eduardo can't help but pick at the bandage at his wrist. It stings. It's the perfect accompaniment to the topic at hand.

“Were you aware you were signing your own death certificate?" someone asks him.

Eduardo wants to scream. He wants to take a sledgehammer and break all the glass in the room. Maybe then, he'll stop feeling so fragile.

Of course, I didn't know, he thinks. It never crossed my mind that Mark would do something like this to me. The lawyers didn't say and I know—knew even then—they were Mark's lawyers. But they were supposed to be mine too. We were two halves of the same soul. Everything was supposed to be _ours._

“You had one friend," he says. “I was your only friend."

It's not strictly true, he knows. It's not even that he wants it to have been true. But he hopes his meaning comes across to Mark somehow. _You were the one for me and I thought I was the one for you._

It probably won't.

He turns away and faces the window again. “My father won't even look at me," he says to the glass. Somehow, thinking about that is less painful than the situation he's in now.

Eduardo knew the questions were coming. Gretchen had explained the game plan to him earlier. But when he starts to answer, saying that no one else's shares were diluted, he feels his stomach begin to roll.

Then he has to say, “Point zero three percent." he can feel bile rise up his throat and his arm jerks. He hisses in pain as his wrist hits the edge of his armrest. He feels the stitches stretch and the warm seep of blood.

Eduardo cradles his arm against his chest. Gretchen leans over to say, “We can take a break if you want."

He nods and watches Mark straighten in his seat from the corner of his eye.

“Yes please," he says and walks down the hall to the bathroom.

 

Eduardo rolls up his shirtsleeves and unwraps the bandage. He's just put his hand under a cold stream of water but he hears the door open and footsteps come.

He knows who it is.

“Wardo, what did you do? Where's the leather⎯" Mark stops. “Where's your _timer?"_

He swallows several times. They probably shouldn't even be talking, he thinks. Their lawyers will be upset. He opens his mouth to tell Mark this but instead, he finds himself saying, “It was time to get rid of it."

It hurts to say it, to even admit it to himself. God, it makes him sick to think about how even after these past few years, he'd still held onto some amount of hope. How he used to sometimes unbuckle the leather band and look at that empty countdown and think, _Mark is the one_. He's finally moved on though, Eduardo tells himself. The timer is gone and he's moved on.

Mark doesn't speak for a moment. His eyes are wide but he doesn't look up from Eduardo's wrist. “But the countdown," he finally says.

Eduardo laughs, the taste bitter in his mouth. “It was always blank, Mark. It was always going to be. It was _always_ you."

Mark tries and fails to choke down a surprised noise.

Eduardo looks up in at the sound and for a moment he wants to laugh. All these years and he'd thought that Mark had known. He'd thought that Mark had known about it and his feelings about timer technology. He'd thought Mark had _known._ Eduardo isn't sure if it makes it more painful or not, that he hadn't.

Mark hadn’t thought they were soulmates. He hadn’t known with the surety Eduardo had.

He turns away and clutches the edge of the sink. His back is bent as if the weight of the world was on it, feeling as if he were Atlas. “I’m just the person who was dumb enough to think it didn't matter.

“I’m me and you're you. And _it_ was just a stupid fucking timer with a fucking blank countdown. It didn't matter at all. To me." Eduardo takes a deep, shuddering breath and walks to the door. “Goodbye, Mark."

He tries to tell himself it feels like closure. Not his heart being ripped out his open chest.

 

Gretchen pulls him aside when he gets back to the conference room. “Mr. Zuckerberg and his lawyers are going to have to settle," she says. “It's the only smart choice."

He nods and tries to feel some triumph.

A week later, the paperwork is all signed and the settlement finalized. Gretchen tells him that the money transfer should show up in his main bank account soon. She shakes his hand and wishes him luck in his future endeavors. He thanks her and her team.

He doesn't look at Mark.

He has nothing left to do in California. No reason to be here.

His bags are already packed and waiting in the lobby downstairs.

 

_take this time to figure it out. the wire, the fuse, the things that you doubt._

The airport is filled with too many numbers. Clocks, arrival times, departure times, ETAs, gate numbers, and more.

Eduardo ignores it all and goes to the nearest ticket counter to buy any ticket that takes him back to New York as soon as possible.

He ends up in coach on a flight to Newark Liberty. He's seated next to a woman who is on the first leg of a long journey to Berlin. He helps her place her heavy carry-on in the overhead compartment before sitting down.

"Hi, I’m Jane," she says, hand out.

He hesitates. It's been awhile since he's really talked to somebody new. But Jane just smiles until he takes her hand and replies, “I’m Eduardo."

“It's nice to meet you."

She puts her hands in her lap and Eduardo sees it. She has a timer.

The countdown is on and ticking away.

03 days 11 hours 08 minutes 27 seconds  
03 days 11 hours 08 minutes 26 seconds  
03 days 11 hours 08 minutes 25 seconds

She smiles when she notices him looking. “It's a bit silly, isn't it? The idea that a timer can tell you when you're going to meet your soulmate. My best friend has one and it gave the exact time that she met her husband. Well, now he's her husband. So I thought I might as well give it a try. Her husband works for the company so I got a great discount. And well, the success stories I've heard are amazing."

Eduardo swallows and opens his pack of gum and pulls out a stick to start chewing. "Don't you think it takes the magic out of it though?" he finally manages to say. “You depend on a piece of technology that most people can’t even afford, to be right about when you'll meet your soulmate. If soulmates even truly exist."

“They do,” Jane says with absolute surety. “And I don't know. I think it can still be magical. My countdown says I’ll meet my soulmate in three days so I’m flying to Berlin because if I had a place to pick to meet my soulmate it'd be there. So that's where we'll meet."

Now that he's started to speak, he can't seem to stop. “What if it tells you it won't be for another twenty years? Are you supposed to ignore the loves you have until then? And what if your timer is bla—" he struggles to finish the sentence, “Blank and you meet the person you know is the love of your life. And it all falls apart because you have a timer and they don't. And the person can't trust that it won't start up one day."

Jane is staring at him now. He knows that the situation he's described is not really the same as what happened with Mark. There were too many other things going on and he still doesn't understand Mark. He can finally admit that to himself although it hurts.

However, he tells her and he means it, “There are so many ways that it can go wrong."

“I’m sorry," is all she says, patting his hand.

 

They're about an hour out of New Jersey when Eduardo asks, “So why Berlin?"

“It's probably my favorite city in the world. Well, it and San Francisco but I live there so I thought I'd someplace a bit more special. And it's a bit poetic, isn't it? Meeting your soulmate and taking down the barriers between your lives in a city famous for being where a wall fell."

 

They disembark and he waves goodbye as Jane runs to catch her connecting flight.

He makes it down past baggage claim, on the transit train, and all the back to his apartment. He stands in the middle of his empty and cold living room, bags at his feet. He stands there and realizes doesn't want to go back to work tomorrow, start up again with his sixty-plus hours a week.

He calls his boss and asks for a temporary leave of absence and goes online to buy a ticket, printing it and his boarding pass out as he decides what to take.

_Newark Liberty (EWR) to Edinburgh Turnhouse (EDI)  
Continental Airlines, flight number: CO112_

He'll like the whiskey in Scotland, if nothing else.

 

Eduardo stays in Scotland for two weeks.

He drinks a lot of whiskey and beer at bars and pubs around Edinburgh, sometimes sitting in a crowded room filled with loud university students, barely able to think, and other times left alone with his thoughts, the quiet murmurs of old men talking into their pints barely registering.

His mother calls him one day, worried after listening to his voice message telling her about his spur-of-the-Moment trip, so he buys cashmere and tweed from some of the shops in the New Town, and sends a scarf and a jacket to her in Miami. He ships another scarf and a kilt towel to Chris.

He even eats haggis, neeps, and tatties one night at the hotel restaurant. It's surprisingly good, he thinks and thanks the waiter for the recommendation.

One day he takes a walk up the Royal Mile and visits the castle. There’s a crowd of people around one of the ramparts looking over the city. Eduardo blends in with them all, wearing jeans and a simple shirt with large bag—his sole piece of luggage—on his bag.

Eduardo hasn’t looked at any tourist guides though and so doesn’t expect the cannon that goes off marking the one o’clock hour. He presses his hand against his pounding heart, the ache in his chest, and thinks, this is what it felt like when he stood there and learned about the dilution.

He wraps his hand around his wrist, right where his timer used to be, for a second but lets go as soon as he realizes he’s done so. He takes a deep, shaky breath and refuses to think of Mark. Pushes him out of his mind. As much as he’s every been able to anyway.

Afterwards, he walks down to Princes Street. He stops for a moment when he reaches the Waverly Steps. He watches people hurrying to and fro from the train station, wishes he had a set destination, a purpose, somewhere he was eager to go.

Eduardo knows he should fly back to New York and resume his life there. He’s spent long enough trying to avoid thinking of all of it, trying to get the memories and thoughts of Mark and Facebook and timers and soulmates out of his system. Trying to move on.

The end of his vacation in Edinburgh is long overdue, he knows. But then he remembers his empty apartment in Manhattan.

He finds himself jogging down the steps into the station. He decides to take a train to Glasgow. He buys a couple shirts and a tie from Thomas Pink. Eduardo thinks again of getting a flight out to New York. He takes a train up to the Highlands instead.

The weather is cool for spring. He stops off at Aviemore and buys an overpriced North Face fleece. He had one before but he thinks that Mark had borrowed it enough times that he never asked for it back.

He continues on to Inverness and visits the nearby loch. He doesn't see Nessie, although he looks, Dustin’s excited voice spouting tales of aliens and monsters in mind.

He decides it's time to leave. He takes the East Coast Line down to London.

 

He stays in London for just one day. He walks among all the hurrying businessmen in Canary Wharf and then gets lost in the British Museum for an afternoon.

Eduardo wanders through the different exhibition halls, not examining everything but reading the notes of the objects that change his eye. He spends the afternoon visiting ancient Egypt and Greece, experiencing a bit of the Middle East and the Americas, Europe and Asia. He’s always liked the feeling that comes over him in museums. As if he’s traveled the world and through time in only a few hours.

After he exits the museum, Eduardo feels like moving on, feels set adrift.

He thinks of France, waiting just across the Channel but doesn't like the idea of being in a tunnel under the ocean, can feel water rushing into his lungs just thinking about it, so he flies to Paris instead of catching the Eurostar.

Paris is nice, he thinks as he walks near the Seine. He doesn't speak French well, especially by Parisian standards but he enjoys the practice. He likes ordering a nice glass of red wine with dinner and having croissants for breakfast. He enjoys buying baguettes with ham and butter from little stalls and eating them as he explores the city.

He ends up staying for a week.

On the final day, he goes up to the top of the Eiffel Tower and looks at the city stretched out in the distance. He can't help but feel like he's waiting for something.

He laughs at himself when he's back in his hotel room.

He opens his laptop, connects to the WiFi, and sits down to pick his next destination. He thinks of Jane and her soulmate, wonders if it all worked out well. He thinks of a fallen wall.

He buys a ticket to Berlin.

 

Eduardo decides to start at the Brandenburg Gate and aimlessly begins to walk. He has his wallet filled with Euros, his BlackBerry, and the card of his hotel. Even though he doesn't know much the language, most Germans are at least somewhat fluent in English. He's not worried.

He wanders down into the Tiergarten. It's so beautiful and tranquil among the trees and the water, an oasis in the middle of the cityscape. If the sound of a waterfall had been there, he could almost imagine turning a corner and seeing Fallingwater.

Eduardo remembers going to Pennsylvania with Mark and his family and walking around the house. He thinks he told Mark that one day he'd love to live in a house like it, just melting into the nature around it.

He stays out until the early evening, walking back past the Brandenburg Gate and along Unter den Linden boulevard. He takes some pictures of the trees and buildings to appease his _mãe_ and asks a couple strangers to take a few photos with him in them.

His feet ache so he catches a cab back to his hotel near Gendarmenmarkt. He eats in one of the hotel restaurants and goes to his room to shower. He thinks about changing into another outfit and heading out to explore the nightlife but he's tired, exhausted, from his walk earlier and the weeks of traveling.

He tugs on a t-shirt and a pulls out a pair of sweats from the bottom of his bag that he thinks may have once been Mark's. He looks at them and thinks of tossing them in the trash but they’re just too comfortable and he’s far too tired. He puts them on and settles into bed with a book he picked up from Shakespeare and Company in Paris.

He's just started the second chapter of _The Great Gatsby_ when a steady knocking starts at the door.

Eduardo tries to ignore it, hoping whoever it will go away, but the noise just grows louder. He sighs and uses his finger as a bookmark as he walks over to the door and opens it. Mark is standing in the hallway.

The book falls to the floor.

 

They stand there silently for a moment staring at each other. Eduardo watches Mark twists his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. There's a small duffel bag at his feet.

He shifts uncertainly before finally speaking, asking, “You going to let me in?"

Eduardo opens the door wide before he realizes it. It must be the shock, he tells himself.

Mark steps into the room, giving it a cursory glance, before looking back at Eduardo standing next to the bed.

Eduardo doesn't know what to say in this type of situation. In the end he goes for, “What are you doing here, Mark? How'd you even find m—no, don't answer that. I probably don't want to know any details."

"Um, so, I just wanted you to know," Mark says, unsurely. He pauses, takes a deep breath and speaks in a rush, “I wanted you to know that you're an idiot. And I love you."

Eduardo splutters for a moment, mouth opening and closing in shock. _"Excuse_ me?" Eduardo manages to stutter out, the second syllable stretching out, incredulous.

“I’m sorry for not understanding about the timer, but really. It's kind of your fault too."

“It was not—" Eduardo starts to say, indignant. He cuts himself off, however. “Wait," he lifts his hand in the universal sign for stop. "Did you just say that you l—love me?"

Mark gives him a fairly unimpressed look. “Of course I do, and that's really not the point to be focusing on right now," his words tumble over themselves as he speaks, too quick. He takes a deep breath, clasped hands in his pocket pulling the hoodie away from his body. “I, god Wardo, I didn't know about your timer. How could you not tell me?"

There's only so much that Eduardo can focus on right now and keep his mind so he focuses on what Mark’s just said.

“I thought you knew!” Eduardo says. “Don't you dare put this on just me. I showed you the empty countdown. God, I thought you knew. I said it wasn't important to me, because I was with you. The empty countdown _meant_ that I was meant for you."

“I didn't look at the countdown," Mark admits, a little shamefaced. “I didn't want to see that you covered it up because you didn't like to see that you'd have to wait twenty or more years to meet your soulmate. I just couldn't—I didn't look, Wardo."

Mark's chin is tucked down as far into his chest as possible, hands still stuffed in his hoodie. He isn't looking up from the floor.

Frustration and anger are running through Eduardo's veins, he can feel his temples throbbing. But Mark stands there looking so unsure. Everything went wrong and a stupid timer with a fucking blank countdown started it all. Eduardo uses two fingers to poke him in the shoulder, pushing him back a little and forcing him to look up. “You are such an idiot," Eduardo tells him. “I thought you loved me.”

Mark opens his mouth to speak but Eduardo lifts his hand, cutting him off.

“I thought you loved me,” he repeats. “And I thought you knew I loved you too." He clenches his hand by his side before giving in and reaching out to touch that teasing corner of Mark's mouth. He steps closer, hand moving around to cradle the back of his skull. “God, I still love you," he finally admits, to himself and to Mark.

Mark lets out a wounded sound, hands flying from his pockets to tangle in Eduardo's hair. He pulls him down into a kiss. Eduardo groans as he ducks his head, tracing Mark's bottom lip with his tongue before licking into Mark's mouth. His hands won't stop running up and down Mark's back, under the layers of soft, worn cotton.

He tugs the shirts over Mark's head and leans down again to reach his mouth but Mark breaks away for a moment to pull Eduardo’s shirt up and over in one, jerking move before kissing the delicate skin behind Eduardo's ear. Eduardo sighs and wraps his arms around Mark's waist. Mark kicks off his flip-flops and rises on tip-toe to press his bruised lips against Eduardo's again.

They're both panting into the kiss, having gone too long without each other. Mark shoves Eduardo back, his bare feet shuffling along the rough hotel carpet, until his knees buckle against the side of the bed. Eduardo falls back and scoots up the bed at Mark's urging, hands bruising-tight on his hips.

It reminds Eduardo of that first night in the Kirkland suite after Facebook went live, Mark pressing him down on the bed and leaning over to kiss the skin beneath his belly button. But then he feels Mark whispering “I love you, you love me, I love you, you love me," his lips rough and chapped against his skin.

Eduardo grabs one of Mark's hands and lifts it. He presses a kiss against his palm.

 

Eduardo wakes up the next morning thinking that he's back at Harvard, or dreaming about it once again. He feels Mark pressed against his back, arm wrapped around his waist, and their legs tangled together.

It takes a moment to remember that they're in Germany.

Mark said he loves me, Eduardo thinks. There's no small amount of wonder when he repeats that to himself. And then he realizes, he doesn't know what to do. They can't stay in Berlin forever.

He slides out bed, wrapping Mark's arm around a pillow, and goes to the coffee maker. Mark wakes up just as it finishes brewing.

“So what do you want to do today?" Mark asks as he sits up. He looks so young with mussed up curls and his curled-up fists rubbing his eyes.

It really is as if they're back at Harvard. Eduardo could almost believe that he'll hear Dustin chomping away at cereal in a bit and Chris rushing out of the room to make it to his ridiculously early morning class. But they're aren't nineteen anymore, Eduardo has to remind himself and too much things have happened to just forget.

“Wardo?" Mark says hesitantly.

Eduardo sighs as he brings over two cups of coffee. He sits down on the bed facing Mark. He hands off the coffee made just the way Mark likes (cream and one sugar) and sips his own (black with four sugars). He needs some time to think.

He reaches over and strokes the delicate skin beneath Mark’s left eye and the ridge of his cheekbone with his thumb. “I don't know, Mark. I think I’m ready to go home."

“If you let me borrow your laptop, I can buy us tickets back to San Francisco," Mark says.

He reaches over to pick up the Macbook Pro from the bedside table. Eduardo gently grabs his wrist, stopping him. He presses Mark's hand against his cheek, trying to think of what words to say, to try to make Mark understand. “I meant, I’m ready to go back home to New York," he pauses. “And I may—I may be moving to Singapore soon. My boss and I have been talking about me transferring over to that branch for the past few months."

Mark is shocked still, eyes wide, then he becomes a flurry of movement. He pulls his hand away and grabs Eduardo's coffee cup, places both of them on the bedside table. “No, Wardo, no," he says, he clasps their hands. “But what—what about the—and love—"

Eduardo stops him. “I love you, Mark. And I believe that you love me too. But I don't know if we're good for each other. God, just look what happened with Facebook. We almost destroyed each other."

“I’m sorry, Wardo," Mark says and it's the words that Eduardo never thought he'd hear. “I’m sorry about going behind your back with the share dilution. I’m sorry about Sean."

It's the words he'd wanted Mark to say for so long. He hadn't thought—hadn’t realized that there were words he wished he'd had the courage and chance to say too. He finds himself shaking his head. “It wasn’t just you,” he says, feeling the words spill out of his mouth. “God, Mark, I’m sorry too," he tells him, and the words keep coming. “I’m sorry for not really listening to what you wanted for the company. I’m sorry for being blinded by my dislike of Sean."

It hurts to say but there's a bit of relief, a lessening of the weight pressing on his chest when he finishes.

“But Mark," he continues, shaking his head. “It doesn't change the fact that things fell apart the way they did between us. And I’m not moving to Palo Alto," he says and thinks about that rainy night. “I fucking hate it there."

“I, um, I can understand," Mark tells him. “But even just New York would be better. I can't move Facebook headquarters—"

“I don't expect you to follow me, Mark," Eduardo interrupts. “I don’t wa—”

Mark continues on as if Eduardo hadn't spoken, “But you'll be closer than Singapore."

Eduardo sighs. He rests his forehead on Mark's shoulder, unable to resist any longer. “I just, I don't know, Mark." he tucks his face into the curve of his neck and feels his throbbing pulse beneath his lips.

“Please, Wardo." Eduardo shudders at Mark's breath in his ear, the trace of his mouth. “We'll talk, okay? We'll be friends again. Even if you're in New York. You can come vis—or, I can go to New York.

“Maybe," he hesitates. “Maybe you won't hate California forever."

He sounds so anxious and Eduardo has never liked Mark feeling that way around him.

“Forecast says I probably won't," Eduardo says, a lame attempt to lighten the mood using a very old inside joke that Eduardo had half forgotten until this moment. He remembers the night he told Mark of the miracles of meteorology and betting oil futures.

It had been a good night, he thinks. He'd almost let himself forget all about those.

Mark laughs though, a soft, almost silent, snuffling sound, and kisses Eduardo's cheek.

“We should stay in Berlin a few more days," Eduardo says. "Explore a bit."

 

They fly back to New York together. Then, Eduardo has to go through customs and Mark has to find his gate and catch his flight to San Francisco. Eduardo hugs Mark goodbye at their arrival gate, pressing a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll talk to you soon," Eduardo says before he walks away.

He's just sat down in the back of a cab when his cell phone beeps signaling a new text.

 

>   
> _I’m assuming the three day rule doesn't apply to us._  
>  I've always thought that shit was stupid anyway.  
> M
> 
> _Received: 06:24:26PM, April 06, 200-_

 

Eduardo laughs as he types out a reply. He smiles the whole ride home.

When he arrives though and takes the elevator up to his apartment, he realizes once more just how quiet his apartment is. It's not a big place by any means. It's just modest one-bedroom, close to work, with just enough closet space for his suits. The bathroom is amazing though, tiled with a full bath and a separate shower.

It feels empty without Mark there, he realizes as he sits on his couch after taking a shower. Four days together after so many years apart and he already misses Mark in his life.

He has been missing him, if he's honest with himself.

 

> From: Mark Zuckerberg m.zuckerberg@admin.facebook.com>  
> To: Eduardo Saverin ed.saverin@gmail.com>  
> Date: April 07, 200-  
> Subject: this is stupid
> 
> Wardo,
> 
> It's been one day. I miss you.  
>  Feelings suck.
> 
> M
> 
> .
> 
> i miss you too.  
>  -e
> 
> Sent: 09:20:14PM, April 07, 200-
> 
> .
> 
> you available for a call now?  
>  -e
> 
> Sent: 01:15:04am, April 08, 200-
> 
> .
> 
> Ten mins.  
>  -M
> 
> Received: 01:18:12am, April 08, 200-

 

They haven't talked properly in years, not counting those few days in Berlin. It's surprisingly easy to get back into the swing of things though. Once they start talking, it's like they can't stop.

Mark tells him little asides about his employees and what they've put up on their office Facebook wall. He reads off some of the new things that appeared while he was gone. Eduardo mentions the party he once went to with a bunch of CPAs at the end of tax season. (”Some of the craziest shit you have ever seen," he says. “I swear, the drunken karaoke alone would've given you nightmares. The next day, man, it was like we were in the midst of zombie apocalypse. And _we_ were the fucking zombies.")

They avoid talking about anything too difficult though by unspoken agreement. It's something that they'll build up to and deal with once they're actually face-to-face.

 

> From: Eduardo Saverin ed.saverin@gmail.com>  
> To: Mark Zuckerberg m.zuckerberg@admin.facebook.com>  
> Date: May 01, 200-  
> Subject: something my boss said today
> 
> mark,
> 
> my boss tells me that facebook is the reason behind the laziness of teenagers these days. how does it feel to be corrupting the youth of america?
> 
> e
> 
> .
> 
> From: Mark Zuckerberg m.zuckerberg@admin.facebook.com>  
>  To: Eduardo Saverin ed.saverin@gmail.com>  
>  Date: May 01, 200-  
>  Subject: re: something my boss said today
> 
> That's just insulting, Wardo. I think you mean the youth of the world.
> 
> M

 

The constant emails and texts and the calls every almost every night are the best part of Eduardo's days. They talk and talk and yet never seem to run out of things to say to each other. Eduardo feels like he knows Mark better now than he ever did before.

He leaves work early on Thursday when there's finally a short lull in the major project he and his colleagues have been working on. He goes to buy Mark's birthday gifts. He ships out a box that afternoon to Mark's home in Palo Alto.

It includes:

. one pair of leather dress shoes, black  
. three pairs of socks, black  
. one Thomas Pink tie, blue  
. five bags of Red Vines  
. one plastic mini weather station which indicates wind direction, wind velocity, temperature, and long-term rainfall  
. one copy of Dr. Seuss's _Happy Birthday to You!_ with ' _today you are you, that is truer than true. there is noone alive who is youer than you.' i love you and have a happy birthday. — es_ written on the inside cover

 

Eduardo has avoided talking about going to Palo Alto in the month or so since he and Mark returned from Berlin. He hasn't even mentioned Mark's birthday when they talk although he has time off at the weekend that he could've used to give the presents he bought to Mark in person.

He's afraid though that the ease of their communication from those last few days in Germany and their emails and calls now will somehow vanish if he goes out to Palo Alto.

He thinks Mark probably feels the same way about New York until the day of Mark's birthday, a few hours after Eduardo knows his gifts were to arrive.

Mark emails him:

 

> From: Mark Zuckerberg m.zuckerberg@admin.facebook.com>  
> To: Eduardo Saverin ed.saverin@gmail.com>  
> Date: May 13, 200-  
> Subject: tentative trip plans
> 
> Hey Wardo,
> 
> I was thinking about flying to New York tomorrow for a visit. That okay with you?
> 
> M

 

Mark's always been the braver of the two of them, Eduardo thinks.

 

His flight doesn't arrive until 11:15PM but Eduardo is waiting at baggage claim when Mark comes down the escalator.

“I can stay at a hotel, you know," Mark mumbles into the slope of Eduardo's shoulder when he pulls him in for a hug and a kiss on the temple. “I won't be offended if you want me to."

Eduardo doesn't say aloud that he'd thought of that possibility himself for awhile, was nervous at the thought of being so close to Mark again. But then Mark probably already knows. "Don't be ridiculous," he tells Mark instead.

They take a cab back to Eduardo's apartment in Manhattan. There's a long enough couch in the living room but Eduardo guides Mark into his bedroom.

“It's a queen-sized bed and a lot more comfortable than the couch or anything we had back at Harvard," Eduardo explains as he sets down Mark's carry-on. “It'll be fine sharing, right?"

Mark nods, shrugging his right shoulder. There's a hint of a smile on his mouth.

“I’m guessing you're not tired yet, right?" Eduardo says. “We can set up on the couch for a bit."

Eduardo goes to his small kitchenette and grabs a couple of beers from the fridge as Mark pulls out his laptop and opens Facebook.

He sits on the couch next to Mark and turns on the TV. Just as Craig Ferguson starts his monologue, Mark nudges him with the ball of his foot. “Can we?"

Eduardo moves to lean against the arm of the couch, cushions propping him up, and Mark settles in between his legs. His head rests just above Eduardo's heart.

“Thanks for the gifts," Mark says, voice little more than a whisper.

Eduardo smiles as he winds his fingers into Mark's hair. “I’m glad you liked. Maybe one day you, or Chris really, will actually find a reason for you to have to wear the shoes." he laughs. “I couldn't decide what I should get the youngest billionaire in history. So I thought, something that you wouldn't think to buy yourself was best. And well, the Red Vines because you never could have enough of those, I remember."

Mark laughs a little and keeps typing on his laptop as he nestles a bit closer to Eduardo, getting comfortable.

The familiarity of it all is both surprising and comforting.

 

Mark's visit lasts for three days.

They spend the first two days together acting like tourists during the daytime. Mark insists that the two of them go to the Empire State Building and then visit Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Eduardo drags Mark around a bit of Central Park and the Met.

When they pass by the World Trade Center site, Mark touches their knuckles and the backs of their hands cautiously. His fingers twitch until Eduardo slips their palms together and entwines their fingers.

Each night they sit next to each other on the couch in Eduardo's apartment. Most the time they do not talk but the silence between them is comfortable after the long day outside. Eduardo turns on the TV and flips through some reports from work or one of the books he's always buys when he enters any random used bookstore he passes by.

Mark puts on his headphones and codes or reads over his own reports. He always sits with some part of his body touching Eduardo's, though. His feet in his lap, his shoulder cradling Eduardo's head, stretched out and laying between his long legs with his ear over the steady _thump thump_ Eduardo's heart.

 

It's a Tuesday, the day before Mark's early morning flight back to California. Eduardo wakes up early and goes to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Eggs, toast, and a few slices of bacon.

His cell phone rings just as he hears movement in the bedroom and the shower turn on in the attached bathroom. He doesn't need to look at the screen to know who's calling, “Good morning, _mamãe,"_ he says, smiling.

“You sound happy today," she says after a quick greeting.

“Are you saying I don't always sound happy," he asks, laughing a little, as he spoons a bit of salsa onto the scrambled eggs.

“You've been happier lately, yes." His mother has always been one to pick up things too quickly, “So what's going on in your life, darling."

“Well, I—" He doesn't know how to explain Mark's reappearance in his life. After all, she'd flown to New York to be with him a few days before the depositions started. She had heard the whole story from him after they'd drank a few caipirinhas at dinner and Eduardo had started with direct shots of cachaça.

“Mark is here," he tells her.

“Mark?" she sounds confused. “You mean that boy, Mark Zuckerberg? The boy you were in—" she pauses. "He's there with you in New York. Are you okay?"

“Yes. Yes, I invited him here. We met up a little while ago and we've been talking. Except I— _mamãe,_ I still love him."

“Oh, I’m sorry," she says, heartfelt. "Do you need me to come up and visit you again?" He can hear her moving. “I can buy a plane ticket and be there tomorrow."

“No," Eduardo says and thinks that sometimes he loves his mother so much that it hurts to think that he'd never fully appreciated her when he was younger. "He loves me, too."

Mark walks into the room then. His hair is damp and curling slightly and dark trails of water are sticking the top of his shirt to his shoulders.

He wraps his arms around Eduardo from behind and presses gentle kisses against his bare shoulder blade. “Morning," he whispers.

Eduardo gulps, phone still against his ear. It feels too domestic. Him standing here cooking and Mark coming in with a good morning hug and kiss. He can almost convince himself that they actually live together when Mark acts like this. “Morning, Mark," he replies.

“Is that him then," his mother says, not really a question. “Give him the phone. I want to talk to him."

 _“Mamãe,"_ Eduardo starts to say.

“You hand him that phone now, Eduardo," she tells him. “And don't you try to listen in."

Eduardo sighs. He knows it's no use trying to argue with her. “My mother wants to talk to you," he tells Mark, turning around. “I’m sorry," he says and offers Mark the phone.

Mark wavers for just a moment before taking the phone. "Hello," he says as he walks out to the living room.

Eduardo hurriedly finishes cooking—hoping to eavesdrop a bit no matter what his mother is said—but by the time he's set the small kitchen table, Mark's already returned and he sets his phone on the counter. “She said to tell you she loves you and she wants to see us soon. She's willing to fly out to wherever we are."

He sounds surprised. Eduardo's mother can have that effect on people. “So what do you want to do today?" he asks. “We can head out again or just stay in," he laughs. “It's not like you haven't been in the city before. Lots of times even."

“No, but you never actually do the tourist things much when you live nearby, do you?" Mark says. “It was fun—doing that stuff with you. But yeah, I’m fine with just staying in and around here today."

They stay in all day, marathoning various television shows and movies and ordering from a take-away just across the street and having it delivered.

 

“I’m sorry," Mark whispers when Eduardo enters his bedroom that night. Mark's already changed into his flannel pajama bottoms and is under the covers.

“For what?" Eduardo asks. It'd been a good day.

“When I was talking to your mother, she talked about—she said that you hadn't been back to Miami in years. That you haven't talked to your father since all the shared dilution. So, I just I wanted to say, I’m sorry."

“It's okay, Mark," Eduardo says, sighing. “It was underhanded, what you did. But I can—I can understand why you did it, in a way. Facebook's done brilliantly without me."

"Even with all the privacy suits, you mean."

"Even with those, yeah," Eduardo smiles a little and Mark traces the open parenthesis at the edge of his cheek and mouth with a shaking finger. “I've realized that I’ll never be able to make my father happy. I don't know if he's ever really happy, except perhaps with my mother. But Mark, really. I’m okay."

"Really?" Mark says.

Eduardo climbs into the bed and lies down next to Mark. He can feel his warmth radiating in the small space between their bodies. “Yes."

“That's good then," Mark tells him.

He is grateful for Mark pretending to believe that Eduardo was telling the truth. Mark pulls him closer, a hand cupping the sharp line of his iliac crest. "He didn't deserve you, not really."

"He's my father," Eduardo says. It's easier in the darkness to say it out loud even with the catch in his throat. He understands now that Mark will have noticed it.

“I know, Wardo." Mark murmurs. “But your mom loves you, you know. She really does. And I—I love you too," he kisses Eduardo's neck. “Sleep now."

 

They wake up early to get airport in time for Mark to check in.

Mark hesitates a second when they reach the security check, looking around cautiously, before he wraps his arms around Eduardo's neck and pulls him into a kiss. Eduardo sighs quietly, holding in a moan, as he moves a hand to the small of Mark's back, pulling him in close. Mark runs his hands through Eduardo's hair, licking past his teeth and into his mouth. The kiss is hot and wet and so perfectly needy.

They have to pull away far too quickly for Eduardo’s liking.

It's their first real kiss since that day in Berlin when Mark had showed up at his hotel room and hadn't left. The first time since they really started to properly talk.

“Call me when you land," Eduardo tells him, kissing him one final time, chaste and sweet.

He waits as Mark passes through security. They watch each other, waving, until Mark has to turn a corner.

 

When he gets home, he changes back into his pajamas and slides into bed. He doesn't have to have to go back to work until tomorrow at the earliest. His last project finished after two seventy-hour work weeks.

He thinks about Mark flying back to California. He wonders if he's planning on heading straight to the Facebook offices from the airport. He thinks about what the offices must look like now with the giant Facebook wall covered with the employees' graffiti.

He's surprised by the fact that he actually wants to see it. He wants to see how Mark's— how _their_ company has progressed.

Eduardo yawns and stares at the ceiling, willing himself to fall back asleep. When that fails, he rolls over and takes a deep breath. The sheets smell like Mark, he realizes. Warm and spicy and a bit like something Eduardo wants to call home. He groans and tugs Mark's pillow over, burying his face into the soft, cool cotton.

He turns his head and sees something set on the nightstand.

It's a piece of printer paper, folded in half, with a note in Mark's scratchy handwriting.

_for when you're ready._

the paper is weighed down by a key.

 

Eduardo thinks about it, thinks about taking the subway or catching a cab to the airport, catching a last minute flight to San Francisco and surprising Mark. He thinks of using the key.

He stays in New York instead. He's not ready to leave yet.

He does thank Mark for the key though, when he calls later that day.

“You're welcome," Mark says though his tone says that he believes that thanks are really not necessary. “By the way, Chris has been looking at me suspiciously since I came in this morning. You should probably expect a call from him soon."

“Okay," Eduardo laughs. "Did you give Dustin the Statue of Liberty souvenir?"

“Yes, he is now a proud owner of Lady Liberty souvenir holding a light saber. Although now he wants to have a _Star Wars_ themed party at the offices. or a bring-your-light-saber-to-work day." Eduardo can hear people talking on Mark's end of the phone. “I have to go now, sorry."

“It's okay. I’ll talk to you soon," Eduardo says. “I, I love you, Mark."

“I love you too."

He grins as Mark hurriedly whispers the words into his phone.

 

> “You sound happier, Wardo," Chris says to him a couple minutes into their call an hour after Eduardo’s conversation with Mark. “You've been a lot happier since you took that trip to Europe."
> 
> It's eerily reminiscent to his mother. Sometimes Eduardo really does wonder if the two of them have been in contact.
> 
> “I feel—I _am_ happier. I’m happy." Eduardo tells him after a moment.
> 
> Chris hums into the phone. “You know," he starts, awkwardly. “I think Mark's happy too."
> 
> “Is he now?" Eduardo asks.
> 
> “Yes," Chris says. "He actually laughed at a joke Dustin said earlier today. And it was a really bad joke, man. There was something about a mermaid, a Jedi Knight, and a bartender. Seashell bras, fish tails, light sabers, and shots of tequila were involved."
> 
> “I don't want to know. Trust me, I _really_ don't want to know."
> 
> “You know, he took a break from work after the depositions a few months ago too. It was around the same time that you were in Europe. And then he took a short vacation for the past few days. He called it his birthday gift to himself."
> 
> Eduardo sighs, “You can just ask, you know."
> 
> “Are the two of—talking now?" Chris says.
> 
> “Yeah, we are," Eduardo says, smiling. He looks at a picture that he and Mark had taken at the top of the Empire State Building. It's framed and set on his bedroom dresser.
> 
> He'd stuck a copy in Mark's bag. He wonders when he'll notice it.

 

It amazes him sometimes, how much his life is tangled around Palo Alto, even though he hasn't been back there in months. He talks to Mark, Chris, and Dustin often. He knows about all the big personalities and little dramas at the offices. Chris keeps him informed on local—and national, for that matter—politics, mostly through raging monologues covering a wide variety of topics. Mainly the ineptitude, ignorance, or sheer insanity of various politicians.

It's gotten to the point where he even thinks of time as Pacific Standard Time plus three hours.

Mark's key stays beside his own on his keychain although he hasn't used it yet.

Sometimes, Eduardo wonders if Mark is upset that he hasn't been able to get up the nerve to buy a plane ticket to California but he never seems to be when they talk most every night.

Then Mark comes for a second, third, and fourth trip to New York.

He'd smiled the first time he'd noticed his house key on Eduardo's key ring.

Eduardo wants to go to California. He thinks about it every time he meets Mark at baggage claim and each time he watches Mark go away through security.

He knows that he wouldn't be alone there, if he went. Mark is there and Chris and Dustin. There's always plenty of work in the Valley as well. He'd even talked to his boss about it.

He needs to be certain though, he thinks.

Eduardo's not sure of what, however. He just knows that when he thinks about packing up his things, leaving his apartment empty, and flying to California, he feels his heart start pounding and a rush of nerves run down his spine.

 

"Darling," his mother says to him. It's nine in the morning and Mark's already on his flight back to California after his fifth trip to New York. Eduardo's washing the dishes from their hurried breakfast that morning. His phone is on the counter beside him with his mother on speaker. “You need realize some things, okay?"

 _“Mamãe,"_ Eduardo tries to interrupt but she just speaks louder.

“I will shout if necessary, Eduardo," she tells him and he quiets down. It's not an idle threat. She once had to leave a dinner party in order to shout at him about good nutrition properly through the phone. “I know you are worried about what can happen between you and your boy."

“Mother, really," Eduardo says, exasperated.

“Mark, your boy Mark," she laughs happily as she corrects herself. “I know he hurt you before and darling, I was angry with him too. But you aren't angry anymore, Eduardo. You've been moving on."

“I know that," Eduardo says. “I love him and he loves me too."

“But still you're scared," she tells him. “I am your _mother,"_ she speaks over his voice again. “I know you. You were hurt and you're afraid you'll be hurt again. So I’m going to tell you right now. Something will go wrong and you, both of you, will be hurt in the future."

Eduardo nearly drops a glass in the sink. He definitely swallowed too much air, coughing harshly. “That's not reassuring," he chokes out after a moment.

“It's not meant to be, darling. Things will happen and you both will become upset but the two of you will work through it because you love each other. You've already done it before—and most arguments don't include lawsuits and hundreds of millions of dollars."

Eduardo puts down the sponge and glass and leans against the sink. It feels like his heart is trying to beat right out of his chest.

“You'll do the right thing," she tells him. “Now hurry up because I want to meet Mark and I’ll only come visit once the two of you are sorted out.

“I love you and your father," she pauses. "He is a difficult man, I know. But he loves you in his own way. And I am proud of you, Eduardo. I always have been. You are a good son, a good man."

 

His mother's words echo around Eduardo's mind all day.

He finally calls his boss at noon, just before his lunch break and sets up a meeting. Then he grabs his briefcase from beside the couch and checks all his paperwork.

It's been ready and waiting for the past few months.

 

There's no one waiting for him at baggage claim when he finally arrives in San Francisco after a five and a half hour flight that began with two-hour delay of departure. Eduardo just smiles patiently, headphones on, as he waits for his luggage to arrive on the conveyor belt.

He takes a cab to Mark's address, memorized.

Mark's house is a small, two-story building painted a pale yellow with white trim and shutters. There are flower beds up front filled with purple and blue flowers. It looks like it belongs in a Norman Rockwell painting, a perfect cookie-cutter house of Americana. Eduardo wonders who Chris or Mark's assistant hired to keep up with the landscaping of the place while Mark's at work.

He opens the door, his key turning easily, and wheels his luggage in.

It's almost nine PM now. Mark should be on his way back from the offices.

Eduardo knows that there are no major updates on the site due soon since Mark hasn’t mentioned one to him.

It's midnight in New York, about the time they talk every night.

Eduardo's phone beeps, indicating an incoming call just as he hears the front door unlock. "Hey Wardo," he can hear coming through the phone and from down the front hall.

"Hello, Mark," Eduardo says. He hears Mark freeze and then hurried movements coming towards the living room.

“Wardo," Mark says again, phone still held to his mouth. Eduardo smiles at him as he walks over. He gently pulls Mark's phone away from his ear, ends the call, and tosses it on the couch.

"Hi," he says as he cups Mark's cheek. His hand is trembling slightly as he pulls at Mark's bottom lip with his thumb.

“You're here, in California."

Eduardo nods even as he's bending his neck to kiss Mark. One of his hands is against the gentle curve at the small of his back, pulling his hips in close so that they're cradled against his own. The thumb of his other hand is over the fluttering pulse in Mark's neck, quickening under his skin. Eduardo feels his heart throbbing in his chest, attempting to match the tempo of Mark's own heart.

A desperate noise escapes from Mark as their mouths touch for the first time in two weeks. He runs his hands up and down Eduardo's chest and bites at his lip, soothing the ache a second later with a soft kiss. Eduardo groans and presses his tongue into Mark's mouth.

He tastes like red licorice and soda, like love and home.

Mark pulls away and pants into the hollow at the base of Eduardo's throat. He reaches up with hands trembling slightly and unbuttons the top few buttons of Eduardo's shirt, parting the soft cotton. He leaves little kisses and licks along the line of Eduardo's delicate clavicles. His hand clenches and releases Eduardo's side repeatedly.

As if he's not sure that Eduardo won't just disappear, Eduardo realizes. “I’m here," he whispers in Mark's ear. “I hope you don't mind me staying."

“I gave you a key," Mark says and Eduardo nods, his lips dragging across Mark's cheek. “And you used it." Eduardo nods again.

Mark's laptop bag falls from his shoulder, catching on his elbow. He drops it onto the ground and kicks it aside, careless in a way that he never usually is. He grabs Eduardo's hand and leads them up the stairs into the master bedroom.

Eduardo eagerly falls back onto his bed. He moans as he sinks into the mattress, pillows, and unbelievably soft sheets. “Oh my god, this bed is a miracle. How do you not spend sixteen hours a day in here instead of at Facebook," he says even as he wriggles out of his trousers and underwear and kicks them away.

He's struggling with the buttons of his shirt when Mark climbs into bed fully naked already and tugs it roughly over his head. Eduardo grins as Mark tosses it to the side. He wonders if he'll be stepping on buttons in the morning.

Then Mark lies down and stretches between his legs. Eduardo suddenly can't breathe. “Wardo," Mark says his name and it sounds like an exaltation on his lips. He licks a stripe up and down Eduardo's neck. Mark bites just as he reaches down and thumbs the precome leaking from the tip from Eduardo’s cock.

Eduardo jerks like a live wire. His back arches up so forcefully that he hears it crack and he almost throws Mark off.

“Mark," Eduardo pleads, shifting his hips, but Mark only strokes his cock once. He grips tightly around the base Eduardo's cock and sucks at his bite on his neck. Eduardo knows that he'll have a hickey in the morning, far above the line of his shirt collar. Eduardo twitches at the thought and runs his hand up and down the knobs of Mark's sloping spine.

He tangles his fingers in Mark's hair, supporting the back of his skull and holding him against his neck. He groans loudly as he wraps his legs around Mark's waist and lifts his hips off the mattress.

Mark lets go of Eduardo's neck with a final nip of his teeth and a gentle kiss on the already purpling bruise. He gently unwinds Eduardo's legs and presses them onto the bed.

Eduardo whines and tugs roughly on Mark's hair, drawing out a moan, when Mark pulls away. He reaches for his bedside table and opens the drawer. Eduardo laughs as Mark pulls out a bottle of lube. “Such a cliché," he says.

“As if you don't keep yours in the same place. It’s just fucking convenient." He also pulls out a box of condoms. “I may have bought these in anticipation of this night," Mark admits, a red flush creeping up his cheeks.

Eduardo smiles and tugs him down. “I’m glad. Although I doubt we'll be able to go through them all tonight."

Mark huffs out a little laugh. “We can try,” he says and then licks his way down Eduardo's chest. He grabs Eduardo's hips in a tight hold just as he bites down on his nipple.

Eduardo immediately struggles against Mark's grip, clenching Mark's hair, as he moans loudly. He should've expected that, he thinks. Mark had never been able to resist doing that to him since the very first time at Harvard.

He hears the sound of a bottle cap opening distantly then Mark's mouth is moving downwards, breath hot against Eduardo's torso, causing his muscles to contract wildly.

“You ready?" Mark asks him, mouth hovering against the crease of Eduardo's thigh. Eduardo jumps slightly as Mark strokes his quivering abs with light fingertips.

He's always been surprised by how soft Mark's fingers are, expects calluses as if all of Mark's typing would have the same effect as guitar strings.

Eduardo nods rapidly. “Yes, Mark _please."_

Mark strokes Eduardo's cock once before he swallows around the head. Eduardo gasps as a finger rubs his hole and gently presses in at the same time Mark begins to moan around his cock.

“Mark," Eduardo can't help but gasp his name over and over again. He strokes Mark's cheek with his thumb, traces the bow of his lips where they're open and slick around his cock. But then Mark carefully slides a second finger in and grazes the spot that causes Eduardo's body to spasm uncontrollably.

It's all he can do to remember to breathe.

Mark's fingers move carefully in and out his body, brushing that point what feels to Eduardo to be every time, just as Mark's mouth offers warm, wet suction around his cock.

Eduardo begins to sob with pleasure—it's too much and not enough.

Mark pulls off Eduardo's cock with one last lick and rests his forehead on Eduardo's heaving stomach, panting heavily, as he pushes in a third finger. Eduardo feels him mouth something silently against his skin. He remembers Berlin and thinks he knows what Mark is saying.

He grabs Mark's free hand and presses his lips against it. He entwines their fingers and holds their hands against his stomach for a moment before letting go reluctantly.

"Hurry," Eduardo tugs on Mark's hair and shoulder, urging him to move up his body. Mark pulls his fingers out with a gentle squeeze of his thigh. His hands are too shaky and slippery to open the condom packet though so Eduardo takes it from him.

He slides it down Mark's cock and pours some lube in his hand, stroking Mark's cock several times. He likes the way Mark's hips stutter forward, the unguarded expression on his face.

Mark grabs Eduardo's wrist, tugging his hand away. His pauses when his fingers softly trace along the scar from Eduardo's timer surgery. He kisses the spot before he nudges Eduardo back onto the cushions and places a pillow beneath his hips.

He rubs his hand along Eduardo's side, a question, and kisses him when he smiles. Eduardo waits until Mark positions himself then runs his hands along Mark's spine, in the way he knows Mark loves.

Mark groans when Eduardo's blunt, trimmed nails scratch red lines down his back. “God Wardo," he stutters out as his hips slam forward.

Eduardo gasps and digs his fingers into Mark's shoulders, his legs wrapping tightly around Mark's waist. He presses against Mark's lower back with his heel, urging him to move.

“Wardo," Mark says he moves, pulling back only a few inches before slowly moving forward again.

Eduardo laughs and presses a hand on the back of his neck. Mark collapses onto one arm and Eduardo licks into his mouth until the two of them are breathless. “Just fuck me," he pulls away gasp into Mark's ear.

“You always did try to kill me," Mark breathes desperately, the words hot against the pulse of blood running under Eduardo's skin. Mark trails kisses down Eduardo's neck and starts to suck a new hickey into his skin. His hips begin to pump faster and faster with each score of nails down his back and every muffled whimper from Eduardo.

Then Mark changes his angle of his thrusts and suddenly, Eduardo can feel Mark's every movement down in his bones.

He'd missed this, Eduardo thinks as he nudges the tops of Mark's thigh with the backs of his feet. He'd missed this electricity that always seemed to spark between them.

He reaches up and cups the line of Mark's jaw in his hand and brings him down to place their foreheads together. He moans brokenly every time Mark's cock pushes into his body. Then Mark wraps his hand around his cock and Eduardo is lost. His back arches off the bed and he's coming hard between their bodies. Mark follows only a few faltering thrusts later.

Eduardo can feel it.

They breathe together for a second before Mark carefully pulls out and tosses away the condom. He kisses Eduardo's cheek and says “Stay here," as he gets out bed.

Mark comes back from the bathroom with a hand towel that he'd damped with warm water. He carefully wipes down Eduardo before giving himself a cursory cleaning. He moves them under the covers.

“Welcome home," Mark whispers against the back of his neck, breath warm and humid against his skin. He holds Eduardo close, arm around his waist, spooned up behind him.

Eduardo intertwines their fingers and falls asleep.

 

Eduardo groans as sunlight shines into his eyes. of course, Mark would have windows facing east in his bedroom. He rolls over, sliding under Mark's arm wrapped around his waist.

He watches Mark's lashes flutter softly as he dreams and looks over to the bedside table. The clock shows 6:50 am. Mark can sleep for a little while yet.

He smiles when he notices the photo of them on the observation deck of the Empire State Building from Mark's first trip to New York on the bedside table. Beside it is a picture of them on the Staten Island Ferry with Manhattan skyline in the background.

If only people knew what Mark was really like, how sentimental he could be. Mark's never been the type of person to try to appease strangers though.

Eduardo sits up gingerly, carefully moving Mark's arm and kissing his cheek. He rubs his eyes and climbs out of bed. He tugs on a pair of sweatpants that Mark must have left on his floor before. They're a bit short, stopping a few inches above his ankles.

By the time he returns to the bedroom with a cup of coffee, Mark is sitting up. “What're you doing out of bed?" he mumbles.

"Don't you need to go to the offices soon? I thought you liked to be an hour earlier than the rest of the employees." Eduardo says. “I brought you some coffee."

“I can call in sick or something," Marks, yawning, but he stands up as well. He pulls Eduardo closer with a tug on the drawstrings of his sweatpants and gives him a quick good morning kiss, chaste but full of feeling.

“Mark," Eduardo laughs as he starts walking them towards the bathroom, hands on Mark's hips. “Your employees already think you're going crazy."

“I’m the CEO, I can call in if I want—wait, what?"

“I don't know if you've noticed, Mark, but the trips to New York every month or so were a little out of character for you."

“I still do my work!" He sounds unhappy and insulted that anyone would think that he wouldn't.

Eduardo grins around the toothbrush in his mouth. “I know you do," he says with a mouthful of toothpaste. “They know that too. I think it's more the fact that you were able to drag yourself away from work."

“You matter to me," Mark says. “I mean, Facebook is always going to be important but you're important too. You're my—you know," he trails off.

“Yeah, you're my soulmate too," Eduardo tells him. “We don't need timers to know that."

He rinses his mouth out and turns to Mark.

Mark's clutching his mug of coffee under his nose, inhaling the smell between small sips. His hair is a riotous mess of curls, his eyes closed, and there's a hint of drool against his cheek from when he'd been sleeping with his mouth open. He hadn't bothered to put on any clothes and he's scratching idly at flecks of Eduardo's dried come still on his stomach.

Eduardo feels his mouth go dry.

He's the most beautiful thing that Eduardo has even seen.

“You're stuck with me forever now," Eduardo says. He runs his fingers across the pale line of his collarbones and then down his chest, along his sternum. He touches the sharp cut of Mark's hips and then his half-hard cock.

Mark whimpers, mug clattering on the marble counter as he sets it down.

He grips the countertop, knuckles white with strain, as Eduardo drops to knees in front of him.

Mark ends up having to call his assistant to tell her he'd be a couple hours late to work.

 

“I really can stay home today," Mark tells him as they dry off from a shower and get dressed.

“No, it's okay," Eduardo says as he pulls on a button-down. It's slightly wrinkled from travel but he doubts Mark will care or even register the little imperfections. Mark reaches over and starts buttoning it for him, fingers tracing his bare skin before he covers it up. “I was actually hoping to come with you, if that's alright?"

“You want to come to the Facebook offices?" he asks. He sounds surprised but then, Eduardo can't really blame him. The last time he'd been in the offices, the scene had been pretty—explosive, to say the least.

“Yeah, I do," Eduardo says. “I want to see it. I'd like to see what you've done with the place."

“You know," Mark starts slowly. “It wasn't just me. I mean, Chris and Dustin have been there. And the employees as well. And it couldn't have even gotten off the ground without you—even if Facebook is doing great without you as CFO. You're the very first person who believed in it. You know I mean that, right?" his words are speeding out his mouth by the end.

“I know, Mark," Eduardo tell him, running a hand through Mark's hair. “Now finish getting dressed. Do you have any breakfast food downstairs?"

"Um, some granola bars and maybe some brown bananas? I had a few oranges but I had to throw them away because they went all grey and blue. I had some yogurt but it started to smell."

Eduardo laughs. He rubs Mark's cheekbone and kisses the space just below it, “I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit then."

He grabs two granola bars from a cupboard and two bruised but acceptable bananas from a bowl on the counter. He quickly eats his and hands Mark his own as they leave the house. “You can eat while I drive," Eduardo says.

 

It's only when he pulls into Mark's allotted parking space that he realizes just how anxious he is. Mark's already unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door but Eduardo can't seem to move his hands from the perfect ten-and-two position.

He stares at the building in front of him. It looks so unassuming—you would think a modern company worth billions of dollars would be located in some slick skyscraper in New York City, Los Angeles, or Chicago.

Mark opens his door and reaches over to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Come on," he says. He takes hold of Eduardo's wrist and pulls him out of the Acura.

“You know, I don't think I ever said sorry for destroying your laptop."

"Don't be," Mark tells him. “I think it probably deserved it."

Eduardo looks down at his hands trembling slightly and goes to shove them into his pockets. Mark captures them and offers a reassuring squeeze and a kiss on his knuckles. “It'll be fine," he states simply. "Let's go."

There are three people working the front desk and security. Mark doesn't even have to flash his work ID to get through. The perks of being CEO and practically living in the offices, Eduardo thinks.

The receptionist must recognize him. Eduardo sees her eyes widen and her mouth open slightly as he fills out the visitors' log. Mark is telling someone that Eduardo is to be allowed in at any time and to have an ID made for him if necessary.

“You know I don't actually work here, right?" he says. “I never really did."

“But you're on the masthead, aren't you? And you'll have to suffer through shareholders meetings now." And then one of the guards is opening the glass doors for them.

Eduardo remembers slamming through them and marching towards Mark. He thinks he'd never been so furious and so hurt before in his life.

Mark traces the fragile bones of Eduardo's wrist, the line where the timer used to be, and grabs his hand. “We can go to my office first."

The offices are humming with activity when they first step in but a heavy silence starts to spread as soon as people begin to notice Mark's arrival with Eduardo.

“Oh my god," he can hear someone breathe out.

“Wait, who's that?"

Eduardo is suddenly conscious of the fact that there are several purple love bites showing above his collar. And that Mark is holding his hand.

The whispering increases but Mark doesn't notice or chooses not to pay attention to it. He lifts their clasped hands and gestures to a back wall. “That's the office Wall."

It's too far to read but Eduardo likes the lively mix of colors, of words and art. He's pretty sure he sees some of Dustin's handwriting in glittery pink ink with letters at least a half-foot tall. And speak of the devil.

Dustin and Chris are walking towards them. Eduardo tugs Mark to a stop.

“Wardo," Dustin calls. Eduardo sighs. He doesn't know why he thought Dustin would ever learn and follow the rule about inside voices. “It's great to see you! The four founders of Facebook or Facewarts or um, Hogbook together again!"

While Dustin starts a debate with himself about the proper mash-up of Facebook and Hogwarts, Chris arches his eyebrow and looks pointedly at Eduardo's neck. “You two were just talking, right."

Eduardo laughs, blushing a bit. “We were, then."

“Your mom called me, by the way. She wanted to make sure that you were actually moving to California." God, he'd known that she and Chris had been checking up on him since junior year at Harvard.

“Yeah, I organized it with my work and everything."

“That's great, man," Dustin says and hugs Eduardo. Then he spit-takes and drops his can of Coke when he finally notices Mark and Eduardo's clasped hands and the marks on Eduardo's neck.

"Dude," he says, far too loud again. “When'd that start happening again?" he presses one of the bruises with a fingertip.

Mark tightens his grip on Eduardo's hand. “Wardo and I are going to my office. He wants to see how things are going with Facebook. We'll talk to you later."

There's an explosion of sound that's muffled when Mark closes his office door behind them.

“You okay?" Mark asks as sits down. He boots up his desktop and takes his laptop out of its carrying case.

Eduardo smiles a little. “Yeah, although I’m pretty sure I don't want to know what all Dustin's saying to everyone out there right now." Whatever it is, he can see that wild gesturing is involved. Also, Chris has his face cradled in his palm.

He walks around Mark's office, looking at his few knick-knacks. He walks past the chairs in front of the desk and leans against the mahogany, next to Mark.

There's a few small photos stuck around the base of Mark's iMac. Eduardo sees Mark's family, one or two pictures from what must have been office parties. There's a photo where he's shaking hands with Bill Gates and a second one with Steve Jobs. Then he sees a photo from Harvard. Chris or Dustin must have taken it.

It's a picture of the both of them sleeping in Mark's tiny twin bed. Mark's wrapped protectively around Eduardo, one of his arms being used as a pillow and the other hand pressed over Eduardo's heart.

“I've never seen this before," Eduardo says. He traces the line of their bodies.

“Chris gave it to me awhile ago. Um, after the two of you started back at Harvard again. I think he was annoyed that I kept asking about you. So he sent me a bunch of pictures from before. I think he wanted me to get up the nerve to talk to you again."

“It's a nice photo," Eduardo tells him. “I'd like a copy."

Mark nods and tilts his head up for a kiss. When he finally pulls away from Mark's lips, Eduardo notices a flurry of movement in the main offices.

“You do know that your office is made of glass walls and all your blinds are up? Everyone just saw that," he tells Mark.

“Please," Mark says. “As if the handholding and hickeys and _Dustin_ hadn't done it already. I like to think that my employees aren't idiots."

Eduardo smiles and resettles his hip against Mark's desk as Mark starts to show him various things around the site. Mark's shoulder is warm under his hand.

He's reminded of the early days at Harvard—before Facebook, New York and Sean Parker, frozen accounts, point-zero-three percent, a smashed laptop, and lawsuits.

Then Mark turns to rub his cheek against the inside of Eduardo's wrist and kiss the delicate skin there.

Eduardo thinks this is much better.


	2. Chapter 2

> _plz say no sexay timez goin on rite nw_
> 
>  _Received: 10:12:04PM, August 15, 200_ -

 

Eduardo sighs as he reads the text. He doesn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who sent it. He swears that Dustin only texts like this with him because he knows that Eduardo has to struggle to read and understand it.

 

> _we're planning on watching a movie._
> 
>  _Sent: 10:13:53PM, August 15, 200-_
> 
>  _._
> 
>  _gud. We r outsid. open ur dor._
> 
>  _Received: 10:14:03PM, August 15, 200-_

 

"Dustin and Chris are here," he calls to Mark in the kitchen as he walks to the front door.

“I bought enough food for four," Mark tells him.

Eduardo opens the door. He can't help but smile a little at Dustin's wide grin and Chris's long-suffering expression. “Come on in, Mark bought enough Chinese food for all of us."

“Awesome, so what're we watching?" Dustin asks as he grabs his usual tub of lo mein.

Mark folds himself next to Eduardo, resting his head on his shoulder, as the DVD starts to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted in two parts at [my lj](http://ellot.livejournal.com/36294.html) on february 27, 2011.


End file.
